Real Vamps Don't Wear Glitter
by silver ruffian
Summary: E/O CHALLENGE. Drabble word sparkle was the one that started it all. This is an expanded version of that drabble. Vamp!Dean goes up against Soulless Sam. Dean tells his story to Chuck Shurley. Up Now: Chapter 11 - cold comfort. Sometimes things are not what they seem.
1. Prologue

_**Summary:**_ E/O CHALLENGE. Drabble word: sparkle. Alternate ending to _Live Free or TwiHard_. POV: Vamp!Dean

_**Possible spoiler for:**_ _Live Free or Twi-Hard_

_**Word Count below the Line**_**:**100 on the nose, as always.

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _Supernatural_. This is for entertainment only, and not for profit

_**2**__**nd**__** Disclaimer: **_The views and opinions expressed by Vamp!Dean are his and his alone and are not shared by this author.

* * *

I miss looking at myself in the mirror. At least I don't have to shave anymore. The dumb bitches I lure in say I'm "pretty".

Pretty. I _hate_ that friggin' word.

Lisa and me hunt together most nights. Ben tags along, to watch. What he did to his home room teacher was a classic. Kid's a fast learner, like Sam was at that age.

Speaking of which, I need to pay Soulless Sasquatch a visit. Soon. We got some brotherly things to discuss.

Don't believe the hype, folks. Sunlight bothers us just a little.

And I don't sparkle. Never did.

-30-


	2. interview wthe vampire Dean Winchester

_**A/N:**_ Well, the people have spoken. Apparently ya'll wanna see vamp!Dean go up against Soulless Sam. Okey-dokey. These are ficlets, a little more than 100 words. No drabble words either, from now on.

_**The Set-up:**_ Chuck Shurley's not a prophet of Heaven, he's just a hack writer grinding out a series of books about two brothers who travel the countryside killing evil. Sales are lagging (well, they never were that great), so Shurley decides to shake things up. In his latest book he turns Dean Winchester into a vampire and Sam Winchester loses his soul. Newly turned vamp!Dean comes to visit one night after Chuck finishes his latest craptastic _Interview with the Vampire_ rip-off—I mean opus, and Shurley discovers to his horror that what he's written is mostly true.

* * *

_**Chapter 1 – interview with the vampire Dean Winchester**_

Hey, Chuck.

Now why don't you just sit your happy ass down and listen, okay?

_Real Vamps Don't Wear Glitter._ Are you friggin' kidding me? _Seriously_? _That _was the best you could come up with? Okay. I know it's just a working title.

It _better_ be.

I read this piece of shit you wrote. You got some of it right, I'll give you that, but you got a lot of it wrong, too. I mean major league ass backwards. For one thing, I can see my reflection in the mirror, dumbass. I don't get why you know everything about me and my brother, but you need to get it right, especially if you're telling this from my side. You'll write what I tell you, otherwise I might start feelin' a bit long in the tooth. You get me?

Good.

Lose the Jack Daniels, dude. I need you sharp for this. It's gonna be a _long_ night.

* * *

_**Next:**_ Dean gets something that belongs to Sam, a surprise gift from an unexpected source.


	3. bagged

_**Chapter 2 – bagged **_

Closing time at The Black Rose. Nothing special. I dropped off my catch for the night and then I was off shift. Brought in seventeen newbies total. Picking s were kinds slim that night; I usually do way more than that. Some of the other recruiters are a little pissed off 'cause I always exceed my quota. Ask me if I care.

I snapped the necks of a couple of wanna be glitter-boys who were hanging around the place. Guess they were looking for leftovers. No particular reason for what I did. They irritate the crap out of me, that's all. Stupid shouldn't be allowed to breed.

There was this old dude in the alley. He was _Other_. Hell, he was _Death_. The One and Only, accept no substitutes, now and forever, amen. Tall, skinny, dressed in black. Expensive clothes. He carried a black doctor's bag in his left hand.

He looked at me and smiled. At least, that's what I thought that was. A smile. I saw a lot of teeth. Didn't know what else to think.

"Hello, Dean."

"Uh…hi." Wasn't much more I could say. I stood there staring at him. Couldn't decide whether to fight or run. And I knew neither one would do me any good. Maybe he came to collect for all the times I've cheated him.

"Here." Death lifted up the bag and offered it to me. I didn't make a move to take it.

The Old Dude scowled. "That's very rude, Dean. You will do exactly what I say, or I will end you. Smile brightly and pleasantly. Take the satchel from my hand. Say 'Thank you, Sir'."

So I did.

He nodded at me. "That's better. You may learn some manners yet." He looked me up and down and I swear that look on his face softened a little. That freaked me out a little.

Okay, who am I fooling. That freaked me out a lot, but I tried not to show it.

"Are you hungry?" Death asked me.

_What the hell?_

"W-What? Uh…uh no. I'm not. Hungry. Um…Sir."

"That's a shame. I know a place that has bacon subs that you'd probably like."

I blinked and he was gone.

I stared down at the bag in my hand. It felt heavy and light at the same time. I could hear something. Sounded like a voice, faraway and faint.

…_dean…is…that...you…_

I froze. No. It couldn't be.

The back door behind me opened and then banged shut.

"Hey, pretty boy!" Boris roared. He looks like an aging hippie/evil Santa Claus in black leather, but he's six centuries old. Boris is the dude who turned me. Maybe I should be mad about that, but for some reason I don't give a damn anymore.

"Oh, good, you got the package. You got some time off, Winchester. Take as long as you need. Boss' orders. Crowley's got the Campbells collecting all the alphas, and the rumor is the boss is next. We can't have that. So you gotta give that whatsis back or kill him. The big guy trusts you." Boris rolled his eyes. "I dunno why, so either way is your choice."

"Give _what_ back?" I growled at him, too harsh and too loud. I tried to drown out the whispering coming from the bag. "What the _hell_ are you talkin' about?"

_...dean..._

"C'mon, work with me, will ya?" Boris grinned at me. He nodded at the black bag. "What's inside is your brother's soul."

* * *

_**Next week:**_ Heartwarming domestic scenes in the Winchester/Braeden household, with Dean, Lisa and Ben. Maybe the Braeden haters out here should skip that chapter.


	4. heart and soul

_**A/N: **_And now here's a slice of domestic tranquility, scenes in the Winchester/Braeden household. Don't say I didn't warn ya.

* * *

_**Chapter 3 – heart and soul**_

As soon as I walked through the door with the bag I realized I needed a drink.

Or I needed to drink a drunk.

I passed two bars on the way home. I could've grabbed one or two drunks, but I didn't. Then I'd have to put up with all the screaming and pleading and I just didn't feel like dealing with all that noise. I needed the straight stuff, right out of the bottle.

Surprised? Don't be. It's not all about the blood.

I dropped my boots at the door, put the bag on the dining room table and padded into the kitchen barefoot. I pulled a six pack of beer out of the fridge, went back into the dining room and sat down in front of the bag. Half a six pack later I was feeling buzzed, in a good way, right between the ears. That was the only way I could make myself deal with this freaky thing. I reached out and opened the bag again. Sam's voice still sounded faraway, but I could hear him better.

…_dean…please…_

Huh. I sat back in the chair and stared. The bright white light didn't hurt my eyes. It was kinda nice, actually.

I leaned forward and poked the soul with my finger. It was hard and slick at first, but then my finger went in a little bit, like it was a sponge, and I jerked back. Thought it was going to burn me, but it didn't. And I just didn't want to hurt him, that's all. Sounds like I'm going soft, right? I thought Sam's soul was gonna growl "Quit it." He always did when I poked him in the arm before. Now I was sitting here poking my finger into his soul. Instead he sounded sad, and he said my name again.

…_dean…_

"Sammy," I whispered out loud.

Maybe it was the beer talking. I reached in and put my fingers around the soul, lifted it out of the bag. It felt tingly. Felt nice. Still felt heavy and light all at the same time. Freaky.

Sam's soul became quiet. It was like _it_..._he_...didn't care what I was now. Like all it wanted…all _he_ wanted…was to know that I was around.

I put it back in the bag. I didn't close it back all the way, though.

I sat back in the chair.

"Babe. You okay?" Lisa put her arms around my shoulders She leaned down and rubbed her cheek against the side of my face. I leaned into her, and she kissed me on the jaw.

That felt good. "No. I mean, yeah."

She reached down, placed her palm flat against my heart. Her hand moved in small circles, just the way I like it. On the way home I called her, gave her a heads up about what I had in the bag. No sense in both of us being freaked out. Lisa wasn't, though. I could feel it in her skin. She stared at the bag and her hand moved on my chest and I just didn't want her to stop.

"So what are you gonna do for your brother?"

For a long moment I didn't say anything. I always looked out for Sammy. Always. He was different now, but here I was, different too, and I had the one piece that he was missing. Besides which, he let Boris turn me. He let it happen, and even though Sam told me he didn't give a damn but anybody, including me, I wasn't pissed off at Boris, but I was plenty pissed off at Soulless.

I could give him his soul back, which would really annoy Soulless. Maybe that just shows how twisted I am, but I liked that idea. Sam could have a life of his own after I gave him his missing part back, but I doubted he would. He'd try to save me. Boris and the boss figured Sam would be weaker, that he'd disappear after that. I knew they were wrong. I tried to tell Boris, but he wasn't listening.

One thing I didn't want to do was turn Soulless. Turning a soulless dude into a vamp could be really bad news. It was bad enough turning the average human.

Damn, all this was giving me a headache, despite the beer. Despite everything. I closed my eyes and hung my head. I reached out blind and managed to close the case up (_…dean…de..._) and then I sat back in the chair. Lisa massaged my shoulders, and I let her. I grunted when she hit a tight spot, and she worked through the knot, slow and steady.

"Well?"

"He could still have a life," I mumbled finally.

"Baddest vamp I know, and you're gooey, Winchester."

"I'm - I'm _what_?"

"Gooey. Hard on the outside, gooey on the inside." She nodded toward the bag. "Speaking of which, how are you gonna give that back?"

"Death put a special coating on it. I have to get close enough to push it back into Sam's chest."

Lisa's eyes got wide when she heard that. "Oh."

The front door opened, then closed. Somebody screamed in the hallway behind us. We turned in the direction of the noise.

Ben froze. He had this girl I'd never seen before by the throat. She was slightly older and taller than he was. Black eyeliner, black leather and black fishnet stockings. She was screaming her head off. We had to move after I ditched Sam and the Campbells. Not likely that our new neighbors would call the police. Most of them on this block are vamps.

I scowled at him. "Dude. Stop playing with your food, all right? Either drink it or snap its neck. That noise is driving me crazy."

Ben grinned at me all toothy. "Sorry about that." He hit Goth Chick in the face, and she went down like a ton of bricks. The kid grabbed her hair and pulled her upstairs. Her heels bumped on each step as they went.

He's my kid. _Mine._ I smelled the family resemblance the first time I came around after I was turned. That's why I shoved him away so hard that night. Lisa was mad at me because I did that, but I should've been pissed because she lied to me before, told me Ben _wasn't_ my kid.

She stopped being mad the second time I came 'round. I don't hold grudges.

Well, not with her.

"Geez. Was I like that when I was his age?" I groused.

Lisa shrugged. "Probably. Minus the thirst and the fangs, of course."

"You gonna be all right while I'm gone?"

"Sure. We've got new human neighbors." Lisa sighed ruefully. "Down the block. Nice couple. He's Italian, she's Chinese." She dropped her fangs and ran her tongue over her teeth. "I'm in the mood for Chinese food."

I quirked an eyebrow at her.

She pushed me in the shoulder. "We'll be fine. You go on and take care of your brother."

I chuckled and kissed her long and deep.

* * *

All-righty. Now that we've got the mushy stuff out of the way, the hunt is on. Soulless Sam and Vamp!Dean square off in the next chapters. More Saturday, earlier if RL permits.


	5. old habits die hard

_**The Road Ahead:**_ this story contains action/fight sequences, weirdness, character deaths, major and otherwise, torture sequences involving sunlight and dead man's blood, Dean in chains, stripped down to his black boxer briefs, and Vamp!Dean and Soulless Sam at odds with each other, with numerous unlucky civilians caught in the middle. Vamp!Dean vs Soulless Sam was something I felt the show cheated us out of, along with Michael/Dean vs Lucifer/Sam, but don't get me started on _that. _If you're actually reading and following this fic (and much thanks to you for that!) I figure a knock down drag out fight between the Winchester boys is actually what you came to see. Fangirls who want to see the boys hug hug hug and not fight will be sorely disappointed. If any of the aforementioned stuff squicks you out, ladies, you'd best skip this story.

Castiel is in this fic. At least, part of him is. And: this is NOT a Winchester death fic. That's all I'm saying at this point.

And so ends the obligatory warning.

* * *

_**Chapter 4 – old habits die hard**_

Boris and the Alpha thought dealing with Sam was gonna be a cakewalk, soulless or otherwise. I knew they were wrong, knew it from the start, but nobody listened to me. If I'd heard that some other vamp had gotten the job to go after Sam, I would've demanded to do the job myself. Nobody messes with my brother but me.

_Nobody._

My family doesn't do easy. But then, you know all about that, don't you Chuck? I'd be lying if I said that Sam tossing me to Boris like that didn't piss me off. That was one thing you got right.

I should've slept until nightfall. Should have, but I didn't. I felt restless, the way I used to feel when I was gearing up for a hunt. Haven't felt that way in a long while.

Luring in those humans night after night just doesn't have the same thrill for me. Humans are easy. I'd walk up to 'em, smile, engage in bullshit small talk, make them think they're the center of the universe, and that was all it took. Male or female, they'd follow me anywhere after that, and they didn't notice they were screwed until it was way too late.

Did I Obi-wan them? Heck no. I didn't say "Look into my eyes" like Bela Lugosi did, either. Me and Lisa and the kid watched that old Dracula movie a couple of weeks ago and we laughed through the whole thing.

I caught a couple of hours shuteye, and then I went outside. It was cloudy. No sun, so I checked the perimeter of the house and yard. Everything was good, so I headed for the garage. It's attached to the house but I felt like going outside. Don't know why. Used to be I didn't mind seeing the sun rise. That meant that I'd made it through another hunt, that I'd made it to see another day.

Whole 'nother story now. Poetic irony is a purebred bitch.

I took the tarp off my baby. I hate seeing her sit there idle like that, but I never thought of getting rid of her. Or leaving her, for that matter. After I moved Lisa and Ben I went back and rescued Baby from the Campbell compound. Took her to a garage far away from the new house and went over her with a fine-tooth comb. I figured either Sam or the Campbells would tag her with a GPS gizmo. They hadn't.

They're getting sloppy. That's what _I_ would have done.

We left everything there at the old house, even the cell phones. Shagged ass outta there with just the clothes on our backs. Boris and the Alpha provided the new house and everything in it, from top to bottom, even a car. They call it a Prius. Supposed to be energy efficient.

I _hate_ that damn thing.

I found what I needed in my girl's trunk, and there was some other stuff I could use in the garage. I sat down at the workbench for three hours. Felt good sitting there, working with my hands. Been a while since I'd done something like that. The previous owners left real suddenly during the night.

Do I really need to draw you a picture? Didn't think so. Use your imagination, Chucky. That's what they pay you that chump change for. I see the way you're looking at me, and I don't like it. News flash, Doctor Phil: I don't need yours or anybody's pity. I'm stronger than you, faster, and I could rip your heart out of your chest and show it to you before you closed your eyes. I'm not going anywhere, and I don't plan on ganking myself out of guilt over what I am now. Not now, not ever. You can fill in the blanks in the book, but if you turn me into some sparkly, broody pansy with fangs I swear I will track you down and end you.

We all play the hand we're dealt in life. I'm not gonna get all emo and stare at my belly button and whine and bawl like a bitch.

Before I got turned Sam told me that he didn't give a damn, about Lisa, about me, about anything. He lied like a rug.

He got off on watching me get turned. Had this weird, twitchy little smirk plastered across his face. My blood boiled as the vamp taint flooded through me, and the light from the streetlights hurt my eyes, but I got the message loud and clear: _I messed you up Dean. Messed you up good. Been waiting all my life to see you get jacked up like this, big bro', and you damn well better believe I'm enjoying every minute of this._

Sam felt something, I know he did. Getting turned was bad enough. I got sloppy, and Boris got the drop on me. Sam standing there looking happy made it worse.

Okay. That's about as close to a chick flick moment we're gonna get. Hope you enjoyed it, 'cause it'll be a cold day in Hell when you get another one. Now where the hell was I? Oh, yeah.

I took four empty duffels out of Baby's trunk, and I packed what I needed. I took my Colt 1911 and some other stuff with me too. It's better to have and not need than need and not have. I had plenty of cash and several credit cards that were good and current. A quick call to Boris and thirteen minutes later a vamp friendly cab with tinted windows pulled up to the curb.

Lisa and Ben were still asleep when I left. I wouldn't have said goodbye anyway. Bad luck.

I slipped on my shades, loaded up my bags, and away we went.

I ditched the cab an hour later. Made a few stops and went the rest of the way on foot. The moon was up when I walked into the lobby of the Milestone Motor Inn in Redleman. The place was a little more high class than the skeezy hotels me and Sam usually lived in on the road, but not by much, but I was there more for the town's location than any motel accomodations. Redleman was twenty five miles away from the damn Campbell compound, practically in their back yard.

I checked in as William Brown, and they gave Billy Boy got a corner room on the second floor 200B. Whoever designed that motel room was a car freak, all right. Paintings of antique cars on the walls in the hallway, Even the wallpaper in the rooms had antique cars, and I mean really old ones, like Model Ts. That was way before my time, so I lost interest pretty quick. After I put my bags in my room, I slipped a black magic marker into my jacket pocket and I went for a walk.

Time to send a postcard, let Sammy and Grandpa know I was in the area.

Five minutes later I got lucky.

Half a block away from the motel I smelled gunpowder and steel, and this cheap spicy aftershave that almost made me sneeze. I was being followed, and had been since I walked out of the Milestone Motor Inn. Dudes. Two of 'em. One was my age, the other was three years older. The younger one had a heart shaped tattoo of barbed wire on his left arm. The tat was about five years old, but I could still smell the ink. They were fresh meat on the hoof. Healthy, taller than me, and big-boned, too. That suited me just fine.

It's not uncommon for certain folks to keep an eye on the local motels and hotels. It's like a watering hole out in the jungle. Easy pickings. Prey animals, tourists who don't have a clue what they're getting into. Or who's watching.

I strolled down the sidewalk. Didn't have a care in the world. I slowed down.

They walked faster. A couple of strides later they were on both sides of me, shoulder to shoulder. Sharp steel pricked my left side, and the round muzzle of a gun pushed into my right.

The one on the left looked me up and down and grinned. "You got a purty mouth, Chief." He leaned down and licked at my right ear. "Freckles. Hmmm. I _like_ freckles."

When he touched me I flinched. I looked all wide-eyed and confused. "Don't…don't hurt me…Take whatever you want. Just don't hurt me."

My fangs ached. I wanted to drop them, but I didn't. Standing that close to me, all I could smell was warm, sweet blood. I felt a spark fire up underneath my skin, and the warmth and hunger spread all through me.

The second dude nudged me with the gun. "You behave yourself, be a good boy, a sweet boy, and we won't. There's an alley right down the street. All three'a us are gonna walk down there like we're old pals."

We started walking.

The alley was dimly lit. They knew their way around in there. A hand on my back pushed me in. I stumbled forward, pretended I couldn't see. I could see just fine. Everything was crystal clear. Better than night vision.

The big one put his paw around my neck, gripped me tight, and tried to push me face first into the wall. I turned around and jammed the edge of my hand underneath his throat, hard and quick, so he couldn't scream out. His body jerked and he let go of his knife. I brought my right foot down on his right instep. Bones snapped like dry twigs. He fell forward onto his hands and knees just as I caught the knife in mid-air, flipped it, and then stuck it into the back of his left thigh as he face-planted.

He made a low gobbling sound. I patted him on the back as I stepped over him. "Yeah, I know. Life's a bitch, isn't it? Hold on, I'll be right back."

The other one stood there wide-eyed. Apparently none of their guests in the alley ever fought back before. He couldn't get away, and I didn't give him enough time to use his gun. I closed the distance between us in the blink of an eye and slammed him into the far wall. That Taurus revolver of his was no problem; I crushed the bones in his gun hand (sounded like chalk breaking) and he dropped the gun.

I got right up in his face and he stared at me all wide-eyed, pale and shaking.

"So tell me, is it everything you thought it would be?" I dropped my fangs and winked at him.

He tasted like French vanilla ice cream. That was a surprise. The big one tasted like black angus beef, well-done. All I needed was fries, and I would have been set.

I dumped French Vanilla in a dumpster nearby. I had plans for Beef Boy. First thing I did was strip his shirt and jacket off.

Five minutes later I sat on the roof of a tall building nearby and watched the show. First there was the usual screaming and tires screeching, then red lights as local law enforcement showed up.

The news crews came fifteen minutes later, and everyone stood in the street and looked up. Everyone had the same stunned look. It was pretty funny.

Beef Boy hung upside down from the streetlight at the intersection of Broadway and Adler. I used his belt to tie his feet together. That black writing on his chest and belly was really easy to see.

_I've got_  
_What you're missing,_  
_Sasquatch._  
_Now come and get it._  
_DW_

Yeah, I think I've got everyone's attention now.


	6. dream a little dream of me

_**A/N: **_Despite my best efforts, somehow a plot has snuck into this fic. So be it. Doesn't change a thing. Chapter title taken from the song of the same name by The Mamas and The Papas.

* * *

_**Chapter 5 – dream a little dream of me **_

I sat there in the darkness watching the show down below. After they got over the initial shock several civilians in the crowd pulled out their cell phones and snapped one pic after another, so I knew those pics were headed for You Tube. Or that Facebook thing.

Thought that one was a porn site, like that MySpace one, until Sam set me straight. Go figure.

I pretty much knew how the next twelve hours were gonna pan out. Beef Boy would be breaking news, and things would get even more interesting when French Vanilla was found in that dumpster. Two bodies with puncture wounds in the necks, one with a message written on its chest. That's kinda hard to ignore. Sam and Baldy and the rest of those Campbell idiots would suit up, hit town, and flash fake law tin all over the place. They'd hit the motels first. Redleman had two: the Milestone and The Red Cross Inn. If I'd checked in as James Hetfield or Angus Young, that would have thrown up red flags all over the place. I used the alias William Brown instead; that wouldn't ring any bells…until Sam or the Campbells showed the desk clerk my picture.

Couldn't fool myself that wouldn't or couldn't happen. I'd have to hole up somewhere else during the day. Somewhere safe.

I stood up. As soon as I straightened up my vision blurred.

_Child, _this voice inside my head whispered.

Oh hell.

My head filled up with this buzzing sound. I stumble stepped sideways, and my knees buckled. I threw out my left hand, and my palm hit rough brick.

Wall. Wall was good. Good and solid. I clung to it like a needy prom date and the whole world disappeared.

I knew what this was. The Big Guy has damn lousy timing.

There was a full moon overhead. I was standing in a garden. Real high end, too, filled with all this fancy lush greenery that I knew Sam-with-a-soul would probably have known all the names for, but I didn't have a clue.

The stone bench in front of me looked like a throne. I didn't know whether to bow or kneel in front of the being who sat in it, so I just stood there. The Alpha Vampire stared at me long and hard, until the moment got weird and major league awkward. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and he got this sparkle in his eyes, like seeing me amused the hell out of him. I got the impression he knew a really good joke but he wasn't gonna share it with me.

I didn't get the joke until it was almost too late.

He held a champagne glass filled with blood in his right hand. Type O negative. I could tell.

"Is this a bad time?" The Alpha rumbled.

"Ummm…I'm a little busy here?"

"Glad to hear it." He sipped at the blood in his glass. I didn't say anything else, and neither did he.

Finally he looked at me and nodded.

"Out of all my new children, Dean, you are my most favored one. The best of the new. Crowley and his human thugs are intent on acquiring all every Alpha, including myself. I've given you your brother's soul, given you free rein in neutralizing him, one way or another, because I know you will not fail me."

All I could do was nod. Geez, pressure much?

"And, of course, if you should kill Samuel Campbell and his group during the course of this action, well then," The Alpha smiled, all bright and spiky, "that will not bother you in the least, will it?"

"No sir, it won't."

"Good."

I blinked. I was back on the rooftop. I put my back against the wall and slid down until my ass hit the concrete with a thump. Soon my head felt better and that buzzing sound stopped.

I hate that psychic crap. Dude, we have cell phones now. Use one, why don't you?

* * *

Twenty minutes later I went back to the Milestone and retrieved my stuff. I didn't walk in past the desk clerk. I took the scenic route, up the back wall. Ten minutes after that I was knocking on the door of this vamp wannabe named Garth. He was one of four names I got from Boris. I could use them as a safe haven during the day if I needed to, hell, I could use them for anything I needed or wanted. I didn't like the idea of having some half-assed sidekick. When I think of Batman I don't even think about Robin. Boy Wonder my ass.

I just hoped this Garth didn't use glitter. Ot fake fangs. Otherwise I might have to snap some necks.

The door swung open and we stared at each other. He was a skinny dude, must have weighed 98 pounds soaking wet if he was lucky. Pale skin, shaggy light brown hair, big eyes, barefoot, dressed in a baggy white tee shirt and light blue scrub pants.

His eyes got all big, and he didn't blink. He started breathing all fast and shallow. It finally hit me that he was perving on the fact that I was a vampire.

"D-Dean W-Winchester?"

I nodded.

"Boris told me you might show up," he whispered, like his heart's desire just walked through his door and he couldn't believe how lucky he was.

Damn, this was getting creepy. If he started drooling at me I'd have to gank him.

"Uh, Garth, is it?"

"Y-Yeah?"

I put my duffels down.

…_dean…_

I kept the one with Sam's soul on my shoulder, turned and closed the front door behind me. Garth blurted out, "A-Are you hun- hungry?"

"What?"

"Are you hungry?" He tugged at the neck of his white tee shirt, stretched it down, exposed that skinny chicken neck and the joint of his shoulder.

_Sonofabitch. _He was offering himself to me.

Boris was wrong. This dork wasn't a vamp wannabe. He was some freaky vamp groupie. The real deal.

The bite marks on his skin were healed. Someone drank from him more than once, but not recently. Didn't matter to me. I wasn't hungry, I don't do sloppy seconds, and Garth definitely wasn't my type. I have standards to maintain, damn it.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Dude. Not even on your best day."

He looked like I'd stomped on his puppy.

"Are we alone here?"

Perv didn't answer, so I made my voice loud and deep, just to get his attention. "Is anyone else in the house?"

"Uh…no…"

"Where's my bedroom?" I growled.

"Your - your what?"

"My bedroom, doofus."

"Oh! Ah, up the stairs, first door on the left."

"Okay." I picked up my stuff and went upstairs. Garth followed me up.

Spare bedroom? Check. Blinds drawn? Check.

Garth stood in the twitching and fidgeting. I could see that he wasn't gonna move on his own, so put my duffels down.

…_dean…_

I was real gentle when I put Sam's duffel down on the bed. The other three went on the floor. I walked up to Garth, put my hand flat against his bony chest and pushed him backwards out into the hall.

As soon as I touched him he started babbling. "Uh, anything you need, anything at all, just ask, I'd be happy to-"

When he stepped into the hallway I slammed the door in his face. I think I bumped his nose with the door. I didn't care. I turned the lock. .

And he never stopped talking. Through the damn door.

"-I'll be right here, whatever you need, whenever you want it -"

"Dude," I growled loudly, "if you don't shut the hell up I'm coming back out there, and I guarantee you won't enjoy it if I do."

"Uh, okay."

My number one fan stood there for a moment, breathing hard and fast. After a moment I heard him shuffle back down the stairs. Finally.

I stashed two of the duffels underneath the bed. I put my hand on Sam's duffel and I could feel the light of his soul through the canvas, underneath my fingertips.

…_dean…_

It wasn't words, not exactly. More like scenes. Sam and me, both grown men, sitting on the Impala, staring up at the stars. I saw us playing on the back bench of the Impala while Dad drove. We had a bag of those cheap plastic green toy soldiers, and we never got tired of playing with them.

I put my fingertips against the bag and moved my hand in small circles, over and over again, the way I used to do whenever Sammy was restless, sick or hurt.

I didn't know if he could hear me, but I said the words out loud anyway.

"Dude, it's okay. It'll be all right."

Maybe I was lying about that. I dunno. Our lives are weird, but I don't need to tell you that, now do I?

Don't know how long I stood there like that. The whisper faded away and so did the images. Maybe he was sleeping. I hoped so.

I put Sam on my shoulder again, picked up the other duffel and moved to the window. It was getting late, or early, depending on how you looked at it. I've never been a half glass full or half empty kinda guy.

Dawn in two hours.

I had work to do.

* * *

I climbed back through the window seven minutes before sunrise. I was asleep five minutes later.

I dreamed about Sam. We were kids. We had our moments growing up. It wasn't all death, blood and screaming, y'know. Dad took us to a beach one summer. Yeah, we built a sand castle on the beach. Everybody does. Then the scene changed and we were yelling and splashing water at each other in that pond in back of Pastor Jim's place. Blue Earth.

Dad and me were sitting on a front porch somewhere. The sun was out overhead but we were in the shade. Dad didn't say much, but he looked at me funny. I felt little. Worthless. Felt like I was nine years old again. It was Fort Douglas and that damn witch that almost killed Sam all over again.

That's what I thought until I looked down at myself. I was just as big as he was. A full grown man. I wore my brown leather jacket, faded jeans and work boots. Even had my silver ring on.

Dad was pissed. He glared at me and shook his head, and even though I hadn't dropped my fangs I knew he was seeing the vamp in me. "Damn it, Dean, I didn't raise you for this."

I stared down at his hands. Dad wanted to hit me. A part of me wanted him to.

_Dad, please, I'm sorry…_

I heard myself growl at him. _"Not my fault."_

Dad's right fist balled up. "You were supposed to take care of Sam. I told you to take care of your brother-"

_"None of this is my fault, but I'm dealing with it."_

"Not good enough."

_"I didn't ask for any of this. What kind of father puts this kind of shit on his kids, huh?_" I was just as pissed off as he was, and I knew what was coming. I could see myself grabbing his arm. A part of me wanted to fight. I didn't want to see that.

Wake up. Damn it, wake up-

I woke up with a jerk and found myself staring at the ceiling. My heart beat so fast my chest hurt. Couldn't catch my breath.

I don't…I don't wanna talk about that part anymore.

This better not make the final draft, Chuck.

* * *

_**Monday:**_ Vamp Dean vs Soulless Sam and the Campbell clan, round one.


	7. tag, bro', you're it

_**A/N: **_If the way the site numbers the chapters seems wonky, it's not. The first chapter was the prologue.

* * *

_**Chapter 6 - tag, bro', you're it **_

After sunset I headed back downtown. I'd kicked the hornet's nest, and I could hear the Campbells buzzing all around me. The closer I got to the center of town and the Milestone, the clearer their cell phone chatter became inside my head.

"…he's got it in the bag. Do not engage. Repeat, do not..."

Samuel Campbell. Hard to believe that prick is my Mom's Dad.

"….crossing Emerson and Adler now…."

Christian. Never did like his swarmy ass.

Gwen was probably around. So was Mark. I couldn't sense Soulless. I couldn't scent out any of them, just their voices. I had eyes on me the whole time, but I couldn't pick up their scents.

I knew why. I thought of my Dad.

_"Dust your clothes with the ashes and you stand a chance of not being detected."_

Years ago Sam, Dad and me went after the special Colt. Only problem was a nest of vamps had it. We had to sneak up on the bastards, so we built a fire. We burned saffron, skunk's cabbage and trillium, then we dusted ourselves with the ashes. That stuff stunk but it worked pretty well, too. The vamps couldn't smell us. We cleaned out the nest and got the Colt back.

Now that same trick was being used against me. Poetic irony, huh?

Thing is, none of that affected my hearing. Or my eyesight. They were just as sharp as ever. Sharper, even. I could probably dodge a bullet or an arrow. Maybe.

Guess this was the night I'd find out.

More streetlights came on. I stayed on main street, and I didn't try to hide. Just me and my duffel, out for a stroll. _Nothing to see here, folks. Just passing through._

I didn't look up, but I figured some of them were on the rooftops. That made sense. Hunters go for the high ground. I could imagine Campbell or Soulless tracking me through the crosshairs of a rifle or the scope of a high-powered crossbow.

I kept right on walking.

Soulless. I couldn't think of him as Sam. I tried, but I couldn't. The soul in the bag? _That's_ Sam. All he was, all he ever will be. _That's_ my brother. I took care of him when he was little, looked after him always, even when he got bigger, older, and his bitchface came out. _He's_ my brother, warts and all, not…not that other one. Even before I got turned, when we met up again, I knew something was wrong, but I played "Let's Pretend." Let's pretend Sam's normal, even though he doesn't sleep anymore. Let's pretend he's the same old emo Sasquatch he's always been, even tho I knew, deep down inside, that he wasn't. There were signs, things he said or didn't say, the way he looked and acted, that should have clued me in. I ignored them all, right up until the day he told me he didn't care about anything or anybody. Including me.

What the hell. It was time to get this thing started.

I crossed the street to this open air food court near the park. It was well lit. A one story brick building sat in back of the food court. The smell of hot dogs and hamburgers coming out of the place made me hungry, but I had to keep my mind on my business.

There were plenty of civilians around, playing ball, sitting at tables and on park benches, so I knew I could count on a lot of running around and screaming if - _when_ stupid broke out. I sat down at one of the wooden tables, put the duffel down on the ground next to me. All the tables were bolted into concrete slabs. That wouldn't be a problem.

Campbell and his hunters would have to come at me in a circle. They'd probably have someone up on the roof of the building too.

If I were hunting something like me, I would.

This could go one of two ways. Either Soulless would show up alone while the others covered him, and we'd talk. I'd play it by ear then.

Or they'd try to gank my ass, right out there in the open.

I pushed out with my senses in a full three sixty all around me, one hundred feet in all directions. I cycled through every scent in the area, human, food, you name it. I heard everything, every whisper, but I couldn't hear the cell phones anymore. They'd gone silent, so I knew I didn't have long to wait.

Thirty seconds later I heard whistling in the air. My six was clear; this was coming above and in front of me. Incoming. I smelled steel. The other scent was cold, thick. My head hurt just from breathing it in.

Steel arrows. Tipped with dead man's blood.

_Shit! _

I stood up, kicked the chair away from me backwards. I gripped the edge of the table with both hands, yanked it loose and flipped it into the air in front of me. It made one complete turn in the air, and seven arrows thunked into the tabletop.

I shouldered my duffel and shagged ass in the opposite direction.

The civilians finally realized there was something bad happening. Somebody screamed, and the rest of them panicked.

People scattered around me like scared sheep and I was the wolf. I jumped benches and tables, and arrows stitched a path in the ground and everything all around me. I didn't run in a straight line; I went zigzag. I yanked at benches and tables, tossed them up into the air behind me as I ran past. I even grabbed some of those large wire trashcans and tossed them up. Taking arrows in the back or leg would have been very very bad.

I saw an older dude on my left go down with two arrows in his chest. Beside him a woman caught one right between her eyes.

Sonofabitch. Wasn't expecting _that_.

I turned the corner of the rec center, and hot lead sliced the air around me. Nearly caught one in the shoulder. I jerked back and took cover behind a tree.

One quick look around the tree trunk told me all I needed to know: Christian and another hunter, a young one I didn't recognize, were at the opposite end of the building, laying down rifle fire.

I pulled out my Colt 1911. A couple more arrows slammed into the ground three feet away. The bastard with the crossbow was getting the range on me, through the scope. I had to move; I couldn't stay there. I leaned out and I dropped the younger hunter with two shots, one in the head, the other in the chest.

The shocked look on Christian's face was priceless. He jerked backwards and his mouth flapped open. For a moment I thought his eyes flashed pitch black. Had to be a trick of the light.

He fired at me. Missed. I leaned out, squeezed off four shots at him; next thing I saw was his back as he ran like a rabbit.

_Yeah, you better run, bitch._

I ran past the building. Plan was I could lose myself in the trees up ahead, but I didn't get that far. I got to the corner, and then I stopped short. Two men stepped out in the open, out from behind a large tree. I couldn't pick up any scents, but I can see crystal clear in the dark, better than night vision. I knew who this was, even before they stepped out into the light.

Soulless.

And Samuel Campbell.

I reached into my back waistband, filled my free hand with my Desert Eagle.

I pointed the Colt at Sam, aimed the Desert Eagle at Baldy. Thanks to that damn herb ash I couldn't smell any weapons on them. And the building was at my back. This was a bad set-up, but I had to play this out.

"Hey, Dean." Soulless looked calm. Too damn calm, like we were just standing around talking about the weather or something.

"Sammy." I thought he'd snarl "Sammy's a chubby four year old!" at me but I didn't even rate that. Tough crowd.

"I got your message."

"Did you now."

"Dude, we need to talk."

"Better make it fast." I cocked my head slightly to one side. Sirens, blocks away. "Cops are two, three minutes out."

I nodded at Campbell. "What's up, Baldy?"

He looked at me like I was some new kind of bug he wanted to smash. "Huh. A vamp using guns. That's new."

"It's a brand new day, Gran'pa."

"It didn't have to come to this, Dean. I could have cured you. Still can, even though you've drank blood already. If you put down your weapons, I can still help you."

"Yeah, I bet you would. How stupid do you think I am?"

Campbell huffed. "You really don't want me to answer that, do you?" He didn't wait for me to answer. I heard the sirens in the distance, closer now, the yelling and screaming in the park.

"Come on, Dean. How long do you think you can keep this up? Sooner or later your luck's gonna run out. Doesn't have to come to that. You're family. We wanna help you."

"So those arrows tipped with dead man's blood was your idea of help, huh?"

Campbell shrugged. "We had to get your attention. Same way you got ours."

"Dean, we don't have to do this." Soulless stared at the duffel on my back, and then he looked at me. So help me, he was giving me the damn puppy dog eyes.

And for the first time in our lives, it wasn't working.

"Dean?" Soulless smiled at me. "Look…I don't blame you for the way you feel about me. You were turned because of me. I get it. I really do. I feel bad about that."

_The hell you do. _

"I've done so much wrong this past year…I need to make that right. Starting with what I let happen to you. Dude," his voice softened, and he raised his hand out towards me, slowly, palm up. "Help me, okay? I need help. I don't like being this way. I want to go back to the way I was."

He had the words and the moves down, but the look in his eyes was fake. Empty. There was something missing, and it was the part he wanted back. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and my brother didn't have his.

He wanted his soul back, all right. So he could toss it down some bottomless pit somewhere. He was the better hunter, remember? Better than me. Didn't have to sleep. Didn't need to anymore. And dear old Gran'pa and his brood were using him. Soulless didn't care, as long as he got the thrill of the hunt each time.

The old me, the dummy, the one who cared, would have been fooled. I would have been so desperate to believe him, I would have fallen for it. Soulless looked and sounded sincere, but my sight and my hearing's better than ever, remember?

I knew he was playing me. I knew it, and a part of me _still_ wanted to believe him.

"You can give me my soul back. We can help each other. Find a way to get human again."

Yeah. Right. That dark flicker in his eyes told me he'd help me, all right. I was on his shit list now. Number one with a bullet. He'd probably use a machete to get rid of me. Vamp or not, I was the last reminder of what and who he used to be.

I glanced at Campbell. His head was tilted slightly upwards, towards the roof. His eyes were on me, but I saw it anyway. I saw the reflection in his eyes, a shape leaning over the roof edge with a rifle. Up high and directly behind me.

_Fuck. Here we go._

The sound of the shot wasn't very loud. Out of the corner of my eye I saw this white streak in the air, angling down, I moved my head slightly to the right, otherwise I would have taken the dart in the back of the head.

Something hot and sharp striped across my left cheekbone.

It didn't hurt. Not at first.

I blinked. _Grazed me,_ I thought dully. _Okay. I can work with this. _Part of the plan was that I might have to pretend I was hurt worse than I really was, to lure them in.

I figured wrong. I was hurting for real.

Cold spread through me, thick and heavy, just from that cut on my face. Every muscle in my body seized up. My blood thickened up like syrup. My heart jerked and stuttered, and all my senses went haywire. Everything slowed down, and I felt so damn weak. I staggered forward and hit the ground on my knees. I let go of my guns, and that was all they were waiting for. They swarmed me, Christian, Mark, Baldy and the others.

Campbell grabbed me by the hair and pushed me face down onto the ground. I was numb, couldn't sense anything around me, just the cold and the weakness that sank all the way down to my bones. A work boot slammed into the side of my head and everything went white. That was probably Christian, getting his licks in. I couldn't move, not even when Sam came and kneeled over me. I barely felt it when the duffel was jerked away.

"You lousy fang!" one of the hunters yelled out. He kicked me in the stomach, twice. "You killed Herschel!"

The rest of them crowded in and stomped the hell out of me. I lay on my side, and I tried to curl up into a ball, but my arms and legs didn't work right. I was graying in and out and I couldn't feel their boots on my skin.

"All right, that's enough, dammit!" Campbell roared. "Load him up and let's get the hell out of here!"

Something roared. The sound broke apart and the vibration hurt my ears. Through the haze I saw a white panel truck jump the curb. The side doors opened and four more hunters piled out.

More wailing sounds off in the distance, and I couldn't tell if it was the people in the park or cop sirens.

I was lifted up onto my knees just as Soulless pulled the zipper of the duffel down. Bright white light streamed out of the bag onto his face. He looked down into the bag and smiled, that same weird, twitchy little grin he had back in the alley.

And then the whole damn thing blew up in his face.

* * *

TBC – Vamp!Dean versus Soulless Sam, round two action.


	8. playing with fire

_**A/N: **_For the last 10 days my internet provider has dropped the signal every other minute and has been generally unresponsive. The error message reads that the "remote computer failed to respond", so I guess the hamsters in the turning wheel escaped.

Woke up this morning and the link is active and stable, so I figured I'd post this while I could. Those hamsters are tricky beasts. They could escape again.

_**Also: **_I have slightly AU'd the vamps in the SPN 'verse.I've never seen this on the show, but vamps should have retractable claws too, as well as teeth.

* * *

_**Chapter 7 – playing with fire **_

_Gotcha._

The shocked look on Soulless' face was pretty damn sweet. His eyes bugged out and his jaws dropped a split second before the charges in the duffel went off.

_Bet your sorry ass is feeling something now, huh?_

Before I left home I rigged up a decoy. I found an old black leather bag out in the garage, and I rigged it with a smoke canister, a tear gas charge, and a Blackstone 1430 Tactical LED flashlight with a wide lens from Baby's trunk. That went inside the duffel I was carrying. During the last prank war, before the world nearly ended, I had the idea to get Sam with a stink bomb in his duffel, but I never got around to using it.

Soulless dropped the bag and doubled over coughing and gagging. Tears leaked down his face, and his eyes were already swollen shut. When the duffel hit the ground the light beam cut through the night sky like a mini-searchlight and the canisters inside the bag pumped out even more gas and smoke.

Hunters staggered around bawling like bitches, choking and coughing. They rubbed at their eyes, clawed at their faces. Some of them sneezed, fast and loud, as their bodies reacted to the gas. The ones holding me up let go. That wasn't necessarily a good thing. I faceplanted into the grass. Hard.

_You plan on getting up soon, princess?_ Dad whispered inside my head. _Some time this year would be nice. _

_Yessir, it would be. _

Funny thing was, I felt better. My muscles were sprung out of shape, and the ground nearly slipped out from underneath me. I pushed myself up on my hands and knees again, but I didn't feel as weak. Took me a second to realize that the tear gas didn't bother me. That was something I wasn't sure about before, but I had to take the chance. Maybe it was because my sense of smell was already screwed up by those herbs they dusted themselves with. Maybe it was because I got dosed with dead man's blood. Maybe one cancelled out the other? Damned if I know. I wasn't one hundred percent, not yet, but I was doing a hell of a lot better than Soulless, Baldy and the rest.

And then stupid broke out, big time.

I heard a shot. When I looked up I saw that the driver inside the van had his gun out. He couldn't see because of the smoke, so dumbass apparently decided to crouch down in the back of the van and shoot from the open side doors until the smoke cleared or everyone was down.

Real genius move, huh?

The first shot hit one of the hunters a few feet away from me. Dude went down, boneless, in a heap. It was a kill shot. I heard his heart stop.

The muzzle of the .45 tracked to my right.

Soulless was on my right.

_No. Hell_ no-

I don't remember getting up, but I must have, because the next thing I knew I was inside the van. My skin tingled all over and my fangs ached. I wanted to rip this bastard apart. I wasn't hungry. I was pissed. If he ganked Soulless, Sam wouldn't have a body to go back to.

Dummy's mouth flew open and his eyes bugged out. He screamed like a girl.

Yeah, I get that a lot lately.

He screamed even louder when I took his hand.

The nails on my right hand grew long, sharp, and curved. Slicing through his wrist wasn't much harder than slicing through butter. The hand holding the gun thudded to the floor. I punched him in the chest so hard his ribs collapsed. He flew backwards out of the van, right into this nearby tree. The tree splintered and jackass hit the ground. Wasn't likely he was going to get back up, if ever, so I lost interest in him then.

I had wheels now. Keys in the ignition, and a full tank of gas. It was time to go. No way I was gonna bring Sam's soul out here, so if the mountain couldn't come to Soulless, I'd just have to take Soulless to the mountain, just like that Mohammed dude did back in the day.

Yeah, I still remember some of Sammy's homework. I helped him with it when he was in school, remember?

I stepped down from the van. The canisters were finally empty but the white smoke and tear gas was still pretty thick in the air. Looked like a fog bank had rolled in. A couple of the hunters bumped into me and I pushed them out of my way. They weren't a threat, not anymore. My guns were on the ground a few feet away, so I picked them up, one in each hand, and slipped them in my back waistband.

I only had eyes for Soulless, but then I saw Baldy. He was crawling away from me, on his hands and knees. His face was red, eyes swollen shut, and he was crying like a bitch. His ass was up in the air. It was a pretty tempting target, and that made my right foot start itching.

_Well well. Dreams really do come true._

I walked right up behind him and put my right boot in his ass. Baldy went flying face first into the ground.

_Hope you like prison, you bastard. Don't drop the soap. _

I felt like ganking him, but I just didn't have the time. My sense of smell might have been shot all to hell, but my hearing worked just fine. I couldn't hear the cops sirens anymore. That meant they were on scene, working their way to my position.

Soulless' face twisted up, like he knew it was me coming. He backed up, reached inside his jacket, pulled out his hand and swung at me, wild and wide. The tip of his long knife whistled through the air right in front of my nose.

Wasn't even close. I almost felt sorry for him.

I said _almost_.

I leaned back, then stepped into him and clocked him, hard, right in the face. His head jerked back and he dropped the knife. Soulless was out like a light. When he slumped forward I slung him across my shoulders, lifted him up and ran like hell for the white van.

* * *

We holed up in this abandoned factory on the north side of town, right there on the riverfront. Plenty of them around here, what with the bad economy and all.

After I parked the van inside I carried Soulless out onto the main floor, sat him down with his back to a steel support beam and handcuffed his hands behind him. I went into the office and brought out one of the two duffels I stashed in there. Pulled another flashlight out of the bag, turned it on and set it on the floor. I didn't need the light; that was just habit.

Then I pulled out one'a my old clean tee shirts and a bottle of water. I knelt beside Soulless, washed out his eyes, wiped his face clean. He was still out of it, but I listened to his breathing and heartbeat (slow, steady) and the shushing sound of the blood in his veins.

He was bruised where I hit him. Dude had gotten really shaggy. I brushed his hair away from his forehead, and I ignored the way my fingers shook.

It was like old times, taking care of Sam's body like that. Well, yeah, even the bondage part. Once Sasquatch got hit with some fugly venom on this job up in North Dakota. He was out of his head and tying him up was my only option until the fever broke. That wasn't the only time I had to do that. Hell, Sam's had to restrain me sometimes too, when I was sick or hurt. Comes with the territory, Chuck. You should know that by now. You wrote all those books about us, remember?

I can improvise like a mad sonofabitch on hunts. I'd gotten this far, but I didn't know what the hell I was gonna do once I pushed Sam's soul back inside his body. What was I gonna say when he opened his eyes and looked at me?

The only thing I was sure of was that was I was gonna I'd lie like a rug about what happened. Tell him I got sloppy on a hunt. Sam didn't need to know that Soulless let me get turned. I can't put that on him. I just can't.

I left the flashlight on. I went back into the office, pulled the duffel out from underneath that old wooden desk. Sam's soul lit up the room when I opened Death's black bag.

(_fireworks, dude, look at the fireworks!...first day at a new school, dunno if I'm gonna fit in…_)

"Sammy." I couldn't understand why my voice sounded a little shaky. No sense in getting emo about this, right? In a few minutes I'd be talking to Sam face to face.

And then Sam's thought voice went quiet.

"Dude. What's the matter?"

He didn't answer. It was like he was hiding from me. The hair at the back of my neck stood up. So did the hair on my arms. It hurt like hell. I felt something behind me, energy building up, big and powerful, like a thunderstorm. Light flickered on the walls and the windows in front of me. This light was orange, not soft, bright white. It wasn't Sam's light. He'd dimmed his all the way down.

He was hiding, all right, but he wasn't hiding from me.

I closed the bag. I didn't want to turn around, but I did.

Soulless was on his feet. The handcuffs were still around his wrists but the metal dripped from around his wrists onto the floor like melted candlewax. Thick black veins rose up underneath his skin, on his face and his hands. The air around him was this weird, glowy Halloween orange color. I saw fire in his eyes and I could feel the heat in the air around him. His heartbeat sounded like thunder. The concrete floor at his feet cratered, and when it did the flashlight I'd left next to him melted into a puddle.

_Sonofabitch._ I was _so_ screwed.

"You should see the look on your face," Soulless sounded bored. "Should have known you'd get tricky with that bag. I did some spellwork. Got a trick of my own." He raised his right hand and gestured at me, his fingers spread wide. "You love fast food, right, Dean? Ever wonder what it's like inside a microwave? Here's your chance to find out."

The air around me thickened like molasses. I took a breath, and that was a big big mistake. My chest and my insides hurt. No, scratch that, they burned, like I'd swallowed a mouthful of hot coals. I couldn't catch my breath. It was a dry, heavy heat that reminded me of the desert.

It reminded me of hell.

I looked down at myself. My fingers darkened and turned all wrinkly, like I'd spent the last hour soaking in a hot bath. I could see heat shimmer in the air all around me, and my clothes began to rip and tear. My black fatigue jacket turned grey.

It's funny the things you think about at a time like this. I was glad I'd left my leather jacket back at the house with Lisa and Ben.

I straightened up. I was going for macho and defiant, and I couldn't pull it off. I staggered backwards instead, right into the edge of the table.

"Come on, Dean. Are you really as dumb as you look? Did you really think I wanted that thing back inside me?"

I had to laugh at that, even though the laugh that came out of me sounded more like a cough. I bared my teeth at Soulless. "Y'know, the more you say you don't want your soul back, the more I wanna shove it. Right. Back. In."

Soulless didn't answer. He tightened his fingers a little more, until his hand looked like a claw. The burn spread inside me, and I doubled over.

My boots turned dark. The leather was smoking. Drying out, just like I was on the inside. When I lifted my head up I saw a trickle of blood run out of Soulless' nose. It dripped down his lip, onto his chin. He didn't bother to wipe it away. I could still hear the pounding of his heart, only this time it was going into overdrive. The sound hurt my head. I wanted to drop to my knees, but I couldn't, because if I did he'd have a clear shot at Sam.

Whatever damn spell he'd cast over himself, it was costing him. Bastard didn't have his soul, but his body was only human. Hearts give out.

Nobody knows that better than me.

Soulless' heart skipped a beat, then sped up again. Another few beats, and his heart stuttered again. I smelled blood in the air. His blood. Another nosebleed, a real gusher this time.

I could take the fight to him. I wanted to, but I didn't know what other tricks Soulless had up his sleeve. All I could think of was what would happen if I died there, and Sam's soul was left all alone.

_Sometimes you gotta retreat, son,_ Dad whispered in my memory. _There's no shame in that. Shag ass so you can fight another day._

Soulless grinned at me, all bright and bloody, and that made my skin crawl. "You always said you couldn't live like the things that you hunted. I'm doing both of you a favor, bro. You and Sammy can go out together."

My knees buckled as I turned around. I didn't like putting my back to him. I grabbed ahold of the table edge with both hands and pulled myself back up. The tabletop smoked, like everything else around me.

Everything slowed down. I saw myself reach out, snag the handles of the duffel. I lunged up and forward. When I bent my knees I nearly screamed out loud. A red hot jolt of pain shot up my back and legs. Wasn't my usual smooth move. I almost fell backwards, but I felt Soulless' heat at my back. Getting turned into a crispy critter was a real motivator to keep moving forward. I hung onto Sam's duffel as I scrambled on top of the table.

Then I got to my feet and ran like hell for the window.

I couldn't feel my arms anymore, but I cradled Sam tight, just like I did the first time.

_Take your brother outside as fast as you can - don't look back. Now, Dean! Go!_

"GO AHEAD, RUN!" Soulless bellowed. The walls rattled and shook. "YOU'LL COME BACK TO ME, DEAN. YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE YOU'RE WEAK."

I left burn marks in the shape of boot prints in the wood table top. I ran and I stumbled. Legs were all wobbly, muscles didn't work right.

"YOU'RE WEAK! I'VE GOT HIS BODY. AND YOU WANT YOUR BROTHER BACK-"

Black and grey ash floated up from my skin, hair and clothes. I smelled something burning and I knew it was me.

Just on the other side of the window it was cool and dark. Cool water. Dark night. Stars and moon half hidden by clouds and all I could think about was how Sam and me would sit on my girl's hood and look up at the night sky, a lifetime ago, when everything was so damn simple.

Soulless burned bright, and I ran.

Couple more jumps, and I was at the window. I held Sam's bag to my chest, and hunched over it as I hit the glass. I was hoping we'd hit the water on my back. Glass exploded all around us, and for a moment I couldn't tell the broken glass from the stars above.

Then we were through, and it wasn't so bad at first. No more heat. We hung in the dark air for a moment, but that didn't last.

The water below came up fast. Something cold and hard slammed into me from behind. Last thing I remember was looking up and seeing the moon slide out from behind the clouds.

I heard Sam (…_Dean…where are we…_) and then the light and the cold dark swallowed us up.

* * *

TBC Next week


	9. sink or swim

_**A/N:**_ The George Clooney movie Dean refers to is Wolfgang Peterson's "The Perfect Storm."

* * *

_**Chapter 8 – sink or swim**_

I had a plan. Put some distance between us and Soulless. Regroup and rethink. There had to be some countermeasure against that witchy stuff he was working now.

Easy enough. Simple. My family doesn't do easy, right, Chuck?

I held Sam's bag against my chest, and the hell of it was, he was calm. I didn't know how much he knew what was going on, he didn't say anything, but I could feel how calm he was. Soulless was after us, we were sinking like the fishing boat in that George Clooney movie, and the Sasquatch with a Soul was calm. After we met Max Miller I told Sam that nothing bad was gonna happen to him as long as I was around, and apparently he still believed that, despite everything that had happened so far. I didn't need to be reminded that was an epic fail, otherwise he wouldn't be a round white soul orb in a canvas bag.

The cold and wet at my back spread over me, and the hole I made closed up overhead. We were through and sinking fast. I took a breath just before we hit, and I didn't let it out. I mean, I'm 'posed to be immortal now, right? I'd never heard of a vamp dying from drowning. Beheading was the way to solve that pesky little problem. Be just my luck if drowning was just another way to gank vamps hunters didn't know about.

Huh. Holding my breath like that wasn't a problem. Damn. I could probably do that the entire way, until I got out of the river. I never liked jobs in or near water. Water's just one more thing than can work against a hunter if things go south. Sometimes it's a help, most of the time it's not.

All I could hear was rushing water. Keeping my eyes wide open like that felt kinda weird, but I could see just fine. The moon looked like this big searchlight that was wavy around the edges. The water was bright, and the moonlight was even brighter. I can see in the dark, remember? Vamp vision.

I looked over my shoulder at the river bottom. Going down that far wasn;t part of the plan. I couldn't risk getting hung up in something down there. People don't realize how much junk gets tossed into a river. I saw trees. Big ones. Tires, metal shipping containers. Busted up tvs. Refrigerators. I saw cars down there too. One of them was this rusty red pick-up truck. The two people inside were having a worse day than we were having. The man sat behind the wheel, and the woman was slumped over against the passenger side window. They were both grinning. There wasn't much left of them but bones and clothes A car accident didn't put them down there. Those bullet holes in their skulls was my first clue.

A few more feet down, and I could start swimming. I didn't like the idea of turning my back on the building that close to the surface.

Everything went white all around us.

For a moment it was deja friggin' vu all over again, and I was back in the smoke and tear gas cloud in the park. I heard this loud hissing noise, and it took me a couple seconds to realize that was coming from me. The white fog was steam coming out of my clothes and skin. I couldn't see a damn thing. The cold sank into me, right down to the burn at my core. Whatever mojo Soulless zapped me with didn't get any better, but it didn't get any worse, either.

I thought we were in the clear.

I thought wrong.

Should have known better. Put a red hot piece of metal in cold water, and the metal will throw off steam. And sometimes, superheated metal will crack.

Every muscle in my body seized up in a full-on muscle cramp. It hurt like hell. My back arched, and my fingers hooked into claws around Sam's bag. I groaned out loud, and all that came out was a long, drawn out gurgle.

Couldn't hold my breath anymore. The water burned going down, and damn, it was nasty. The roof of my mouth went numb, my tongue swelled up and I tasted gasoline, rubber, metal, everything slick and green and nasty. I felt like hurling and I couldn't. I wanted to scream loud and long, and instead I swallowed more water.

_(…Dean…what…)_

I couldn't answer Sam. I couldn't say or do anything, not even blink. The steam faded away, but the pain didn't. I was locked inside my own body. All I could do was stare up at the sky and the water above us.

The moon disappeared. I saw that witchy orange glow in the sky, and above that streaks of orange and yellow. Looked like fireworks. Somehow I knew it wasn't.

Incoming. Hundreds of 'em. Bricks and concrete blocks.

_Sonofabitch. He's throwing the building at us._

The water hissed and steamed as they hit and then dropped past us.

I heard Soulless' heart, and it boomed like thunder. I smelled his blood. He wasn't letting up, wasn't backing down, either. The shockwave rolled through a moment later. It pushed me up, right where I sure in the hell didn't want to go.

My head and shoulders broke the surface and I saw him. The wall of the building was blown out, and Soulless stood on the edge. He glowed like some damn firefly, and the inside of the place was lit up with that freaky orange light. His eyes were the same color, and he was looking right at us. Blood from his nose ran down his mouth and chin. His shirt and jacket collar was soaked with blood from his ears.

Debris hit the water all around us. A chunk of concrete caught me on my right hip. I got tagged again on my chest, legs and shoulders, but I was hurting so bad I couldn't feel it. I tried to shield Sam as best as I could.

Soulless grinned that weird, twitchy grin of his, all dark and bloody, and his eyes flicked up, above us.

I looked up.

Remember I said that factory was abandoned, right? Well, they didn't take everything, and right then I wished they had. I saw black metal filing cabinets turning around and around in mid-air twenty feet over my head. Office chairs. That long wooden table I ran across was up there too, turning end over end, along with what looked like a huge cloud of thousands of bricks. I heard metal crunch as several of the filing cabinets crumpled into long, thick slabs with sharp edges.

I knew what he was doing. If I got hit with something like that, and I'd lose my head for sure. Soulless' mojo made that Stephen King chick Carrie look like a weakling.

I felt his heart jerk inside his chest. Blood poured out of his nose, and he dropped to his knees.

The stuff in the sky fell.

I rolled over on my right side. Still don't know how I managed that. Tried to put myself between all that and Sam.

_(Dean?)_

It wasn't enough. I knew it wasn't, but my body wasn't working right, and that was all I could do. I wanted to tell Sam to close his eyes, but I lied instead, just as the night came crashing down on top of us.

_It's okay, Sam. It'll be all ri-_

* * *

I woke up on my hands and knees, breathing in fish shit and dirt and who knows what else. The cold water sliding in and out of my nose, throat, and lungs smelled and tasted foul. No more fire inside. I felt cold. Busted up inside.

The fact that I woke up in the first place with my head still attached surprised the hell out of me.

I hurt like a bitch all over, I mean every square inch of me. Everything was blurry. I blinked a couple of times, and that didn't do jack. I probably had the mother of all concussions, and that was best case scenario. I was looking at worst case. Definitely worst case. Every bone in my body shifted inside my skin.

I didn't have anything to compare this to. I just knew how my body felt before.

My forehead was pressed against the sand. I couldn't lift my head up. The back of that damn table pressed down on the back of my head and neck, and probably half a ton of brick and cement was on top of that. I couldn't move forward or sideways. My arms were still folded underneath me, and my fingertips were numb. I thought I felt Sam's bag, but I wasn't sure.

Something didn't feel right. The bag, I mean. Sam's soul was an orb, and even though the bag was filled with water, I should have been able to feel it against my chest.

That panicky voice inside my head started up again: _What if…what if Sam's soul couldn't take water? What if it started falling apart? _

_What if I smashed it by landing on top of it like that?_

That thought freaked me out more than anything else.

I straightened out both arms. My fingers were numb. I thought I felt the bag but the way my head and neck were angled down I couldn't see. I moved by touch, slowly pulled my elbows back until my palms were down flat against the river bottom. By all rights I had a death grip on Sam's bag when we fell. He should have been underneath me.

He had to be.

I pushed upwards. All I could think about was Sam, I had to get the hell out of here, had to get this crap off me right friggin NOW. Vamps are stronger than humans; Boris tossed me around like a paper cup that night he turned me. I made it this far. I can get us out of this. I know I can-

No joy. Nothing happened, so I stopped. My neck, shoulders and back really started bitching about the way I was moving. The rest of me started singing soprano.

The pile above and around me shifted. I breathed in and out, too quick, too fast. That was no good. I had to settle myself.

We read all of your books about us, Chuck. Credit cards were golden that week, so Sam and me bought the whole damn set. We spent the next three days eating take-out and reading. That was très creepy.

And then we tracked your sorry ass down, made a few calls. Your publisher even gave us your address. Hey, don't look at me like that. You're in the public eye. Deal with it.

The stuff Dad taught us? You got some of it right. And you got the rest all ass backwards. One thing you never mentioned that Dad taught us was combat Lamaze.

I steadied myself. Metal creaked and groaned above me. Didn't seem like it at first, but I'd started something by pushing like that. If I didn't follow through we were going to end up in worse shape than we already were.

I closed my eyes. Breathed in four counts.

That scraping sound got louder. I ignored it.

I held my breath four counts.

More sounds above me. The load tilted forward. I felt the added pressure on my back and shoulders.

I exhaled four counts.

By the time I got to the second set I was calm. I kept breathing, kept up the four count. I ignored that nasty ass water I was breathing, ignored the sounds all around me. Last time I heard underwater noise like that was in that movie _Titanic_, and we all know that didn't end well.

The weight on my back and neck didn't bother me anymore. I steadied myself, pressed my palms against the river bottom.

And then I pushed upward, as hard as I could. The pile moved again, and every muscle and bone in my body screamed out as I straightened up. I was on my knees, pushing backwards, I wasn't trying to be Superman, I just wanted to make a hole big enough so we could get the hell out of there.

My sight came back, crystal clear. Extreme pain will definitely help a person focus. I was right in the middle of the debris field. Office chairs, bookcases, filing cabinets and bricks piled up all around me.

A hole opened up on my right.

I looked down and saw Sam's duffel. I put both feet underneath me, and pushed backwards, harder. The bones in my knees cracked, and so did my spine. I kept right on pushing. The veins in my neck stood out, and I roared like the Hulk. I was pissed.

We weren't dying. Not down there. Not that night.

Bubbles in the water all around me, and the pain didn't seem to matter so much.

The weight around us loosened up.

Something jerked behind me, and the table slid backwards. I glanced up and I could see tons of debris above my head. It all hung suspended in the water for a moment, then it started to drop, honey-slow at first, then faster.

I reached down, grabbed the straps of Sam's duffel, and shagged ass towards the hole. Sam's bag went over my left shoulder, and I pulled myself forward, scrambled over the tops of filing cabinets, pushed aside chairs. I cut myself up pretty badly, but I didn't notice.

A basketball sized chunk of concrete hit the back of my left leg. A black metal file cabinet clipped my right heel. I was hit again on my upper back, just below my right shoulder, by the top half of an office chair. I could still see, but it was getting darker. The pressure wave was right on top of me. I pulled and I kicked, despite the hurt and pain roaring in my body. Not making it out of there just wasn't an option. It couldn't be.

The space ahead of me was brighter. I saw moonlight. Open water. I gave one more kick and I was out, just as the whole damn dogpile behind me collapsed in on itself. Dust floated up in a thick lazy cloud.

I stood there for a moment, looking around. I was so pumped up I didn't feel anything just yet. I felt pretty damn good, actually. I kept Sam's bag balanced on my back in case we had to shag ass again, and I looked around for Soulless. I glanced up at the surface. No more freaky glow above the water. Soulless was on his knees the last time I saw him, but he was dedicated to ganking our asses. I wouldn't put anything past him.

After what I saw upstairs seeing him down there wouldn't have surprised me one damn bit.

Don't know how long I waited like that. It was just Sam and me and the fish, all the junk people threw into the water, and those dead people in the pick-up truck.

I stood there for another minute or two. Maybe three. Nothing happened.

All the adrenaline went out of me then. My legs shook, and the next thing I knew I was on my knees. It hurt to breathe. Busted ribs, probably all of 'em. My legs felt funny, my bones were like crumpled soda cans. I couldn't stop shaking all over, and my spine felt like it was gonna snap in two.

I shrugged off the duffel and laid it down in front of me. Had a hard time with the zipper because my fingers were shaking, and that wasn't because I was hurt, either. I had to see. I couldn't tell if Sam's soul had already dissolved inside the bag. Maybe…maybe when I pulled the bag open all the way I'd see nothing but a cloud of soft white bits like fireflies, floating up out of the bag into the water.

The bag opened, and I saw the light.

Sam huffed._ (…'m…still…here…jerk...)_

_Bitch. _I laughed out loud, and that sounded really weird underwater, like I was gurgling. Sam was just as round, bright and solid as he was before.

_(…uh, hi…)_

_Sam? _I thought to myself, _who the hell are you talking to?_

_Samuel. _

I wish I could say that I didn't jump when I heard that voice, but I'd be lying about that.

_Hello, Dean._

Death was dressed in his usual black suit. He had on a long black raincoat too. The Old Dude looked bone dry. He cocked his head to one side as he looked at Sam's bag, and then he looked me right in the eyes, sharp and intense.

I got it. Soulless killed us after all, and we were too stubborn to just lay down and die. The Old Dude was here to collect. Usually there's one reaper for each human, but I guess the big guy had enough juice for me and Sam both.

For a second I felt even worse than I did before. All the energy went right out of me. It's always fucking something, you know? I'm not bawling like a bitch, I play the hand I'm dealt, but would it kill the universe to throw me and mine a break sometimes?

Maybe thinking like that wasn't too good. I looked up at Death's pale mug and I got pissed off all over again.

I didn't run when Sue Ann Le Grange's pet reaper came at me years before. I'd cheated Death. People died in my place, and it was time to pay up. I stood there quietly and let that reaper touch my face.

Not this time.

_(Dean…what are you-)_

I zipped the bag closed again

_Dude. I got this._

I staggered a little when I got to my feet. Well, yeah, I staggered a lot, okay? That played hell with the badass vibe I tried to give off, but right at that moment I just didn't give a damn. I put Sam's duffel on my back and somehow, even though my spine felt like broken pieces of sidewalk chalk, I stood up straight and tall. My right hand balled up into a fist. I ignored the bright red ache in my fingers and the way my tendons and muscles creaked like a rusty old door hinge.

Sam needed his body back. And I wasn't leaving this life until I helped him get it back.

If Death wanted us, I was gonna make him work for it.

* * *

TBC this week


	10. worst idea in the history of bad ideas

_**A/N: **_I posted this short chapter because I want to keep the momentum of this story going. More this week.

* * *

_**Chapter 10 - worst idea in the history of bad ideas**_

For a long moment we stood there staring at each other until it got really awkward. Death tilted his head to one side. It was like he was staring at me, inside me. He shook his head, and I got the feeling he was thinking more to himself than to me. That pissed me off too. Hey, I'm standing right here, all right?

_No one ever explained to you what you're capable of now, did they? They just turned you and turned you loose. Sad. They used to have mentors for newborns. Now all they want to do is increase their numbers._

Wasn't the kind of thing that required an answer, so I didn't say anything. I had my game face on, what Sam used to call my kickass glare of doom. It came easy. Sam didn't say anything, but I got the impression that he was in a closed space with rough grey stone walls. I heard laughter, saw Michael wearing our half brother, Adam Milligan, like he was a cheap suit. Lucifer looked like some half-assed giant firefly. The smell of sulfur flooded my nose and mouth so strongly I nearly gagged, but I didn't. I smelled that once before, when I was downstairs with Alastair.

Sam's screams echoed off the walls. He was back in the Pit, with Michael and Lucifer, at least, he thought he was. Death showing up triggered that memory, and I felt my brother's soul shake inside the canvas bag at my back.

_Sam? It's okay. You're here with me. You're out._ I said it over and over again. I had the feeling he wasn't listening I guess he was so deep into it he didn't hear me at first. Slowly the shaking stopped, and the images faded.

Death smirked at me. Have I mentioned that I hate that psychic Miss Cleo crap? I do. So this is the way we're gonna play this thing? Fine.

_I won't let you take my brother. _I thought at the Old Dude. _Or Soulless. And I'm not going anywhere until I set things right. _Good. I sounded more badass than I felt. I figured I was good for maybe a couple more minutes before my body started shaking and my legs gave out.

_Is this a challenge, then?_

I nodded. _Damn right it is._

_I didn't come for you. Or your brother's soul._ Death looked up at the surface of the water over our heads. _The soulless one, though. He's on the edge, but not quite there. He's harnessed so much power. _He cocked his head to one side and looked me in the eyes. _I was curious, so I came. _

Death drew himself up to his full height, and for a moment I had the feeling I was one step away from eternity. _You're either very brave or very stupid, Dean. A touch of both, I think._

Something rumbled through the water all around me. Any moment now…

_Are you hungry? I know a nice little pizza place in Chicago. They serve the best deep dish there. My treat. _There it was again, that look on his face, like there was something about me that amused the hell out of him.

What the hell?

_Uh…no. _

_You haven't fed recently. _Death's eyes narrowed as he stared at me hard.

_I need to get my brother home._

_Of course you do. But you need to take care of yourself too. There's no shame in what you are now, Dean. You're worried about him. And you needn't be. The human soul is tougher and more durable than you could ever imagine. _

That was _it_? I figured I'd get slapped down big time for disrespecting him like that. Damn. I got off light.

Death smiled. _I'll take a raincheck on your kind offer. It's been a while since anyone dared defy me so openly. Consider yourself lucky that this little conversation of ours occurred in private. After all, I have my reputation to think of. _

The Old Dude looked bored. He waved his hand at me, almost lazily. _You may go now._

The water formed something that looked like a fist, and when it hit I went flying up and forward. That was when I realized that mouthing off like that to Death might not have been the smartest thing I've ever done. The next thing I knew I was out of the water, in mid-air. I couldn't tell what direction we were headed in. The moon was beneath me and the river was above. I wanted off this carnival ride, but what I wanted didn't matter.

All I know is that whatever I hit was pretty damn solid. Felt like brick. I've been tossed into enough walls to know how that feels. What I didn't expect was the way my spine cracked. Any pain I felt before was swallowed up by that one big one. I tried not to scream out, but I think I did.

I couldn't move my arms or my legs. I slid down slowly, and first my feet, then my ankles went into the water. We were going back into the river, sinking fast, and at first I didn't want that. What I wanted didn't matter.

Everything went gray around the edges. I felt light-headed, and I remember thinking that this wasn't so bad. I couldn't understand why Sam was yelling at me _(Dean? Stay with me, y'hear? Dean-)._

The river was over my head again and the moonlight looked nice on the water.

The last thing I remember is a hand pushing down through the surface. I didn't feel one way or the other about that. I took a deep breath, and the river rushed inside me again. Bubbles all around me, and I just didn't give a damn anymore.

Fingers dug into the collar of my jacket and pulled upward, and that was the last thing I remembered for a while.

* * *

**_TBC this week_**


	11. cold comfort

_**A/N:**_ Thanks, nancylou. You inspired me. I dunno if that's a good thing or not…

* * *

_**Chapter 11 – cold comfort**_

All I could feel was the weight of Sam's bag on my back. The next thing I knew I was face down on the ground, in the mud. My head was stuffed up. The inside of my mouth and throat were slimy with river mud, I couldn't smell anything, and my ears were plugged up, like I had a really bad head cold or something.

My stomach grumbled, loud, long and angry. That tickle in my throat that told me that I was going to hurl. Right the hell NOW.

I raised up on my hands and knees in a pretty damn hurry. Broken bone poked out of my skin, and the rest of my body started screaming. My head jerked down, and all the river water I breathed in came out of my mouth, ears and nose. It was green, thick and dirty. My hands hooked into claws, tight and painful, and as I slipped and slid around in the mud puking my guts out I could have sworn I felt Sam's hand moving in small circles on my back, the way we used to do for each other whenever we were hurt or sick.

I don't know how long I stayed like that. Might have been only a couple of minutes. Felt like an hour. My insides finally stopped jerking and twisting and nothing else came out.

I stared at the mess I made on the ground. Didn't see any blood or vital organs, nothing I really needed. That was a good thing, right?

Okay, maybe snarking at Death like that wasn't the brightest thing I've ever done. All things considered, me and Sam got off light. We were still together. We were still here.

I didn't know how far away from Soulless and the warehouse we were. My arms and legs started shaking, and the idea of putting even more distance between us and him was a pretty damn good idea. I lifted my head, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I still couldn't see straight, but out of the corner of my left eye I saw moonlight overhead flashing on something metal.

The sharp tip of the machete rested against the side of my throat.

_(Dean?)_

_It's okay, Sammy. _

_(It's not-)_

_Dude. Chill. _

I put my hand down. Really really slow. I got the message. Whoever this was could've taken my head off. They wanted me to keep my head for the time being. Probably wanted to talk. The tip dug into my skin a little, just hard enough to get and keep my attention. I was so fucking tired I swayed from side to side. Still couldn't see a damned thing, but I knew if I tried to make a serious move I'd probably lose my head.

I lifted my head. Slowly. Squinted, then blinked a couple of times.

Huh. I saw a trucker's cap, a sleeveless vest. Blue plaid shirt. Jeans. Boots.

I stared at him, and he glared right back at me. My stomach rumbled, ready for a repeat performance of the Vomit Comet. I felt so wrecked I couldn't keep my fangs in. They dropped down over my regular teeth, and I heard a sharp intake of breath.

"You idjit!"

My muscles shook so hard I nearby faceplanted back into the mud. My fangs retracted. "Bobby."

He wasn't happy to see me. Dude looked royally pissed, as a matter of fact.

"So it's _true_? What Campbell told me?"

I didn't answer Captain Obvious. Didn't need to. He saw. I knew he did.

"You drank human blood? You're—you're living like a…like a damn fugly?" Bobby's hand shook, and the blade skated across my skin. I was so numb and it was so sharp I couldn't feel anything. I lowered myself onto my elbows. My head suddenly weighed a ton. "You could have come to me, you idjit! I don't know how, but we could've found a way! I coulda helped you—"

Call me twisted but the pain and anger in his voice made me chuckle a little. I was a lost cause. I knew it, why the hell didn't everyone else see it?

I had this shit eating grin on my face. That only pissed Bobby off even more. "This is _funny_ to you?"

"Yeah. It's a little funny." _I won't live like the things I hunt._ Yeah, I've said that more than once, and here I am livin' the vamp life.

"Why the hell didn't you kill yourself?"

Good question. I wondered what Mom and Dad would think if they saw me like this.

"Dean? Answer me, boy!"

"Can't. Not right now." I shook my head, and that was _definitely_ the wrong thing to do. My throat hitched and tingled again as my stomach announced round two of Spew City. I gasped out "Gotta take care of Sam—" and then I leaned down and puked out the other half of the river that was still inside me.

Took a couple of minutes before I was able to lift my head again. Sam yelled inside my head _(Dean, it's not him, it's not-)_ and right then my sense of smell came roaring back. I smelled sulfur. I looked up at Bobby, and his eyes went pitch black.

Bobby was here, all right, but he wasn't alone. And he wasn't driving his meatsuit, either.

He grinned at me, and the machete dug into me deeper, harder. My blood ran warm down the side of my neck. "Now now, boyo." His voice sounded funny, lower, with a really bad Irish accent. "Restrain yourself. You wouldn't hurt your dear old Uncle Bobby, would you?"

Something thunked into the top of my left shoulder. I looked down and at first I couldn't understand why this damn feather was sticking out of me.

Coldness spred through me, and the other penny finally dropped. I'd been hit with a trank dart filled with dead man's blood. I mentioned before that it's cold going in, right? You'd think it would be the other way around, and the vamp would be the cold blooded one, but that's not true. Don't believe the hype, boys and girls.

Someone stepped up behind me, stepped over me. They planted both knees into my back, hard. They moved pretty quick; I felt like I was swimming in molasses. I tried to move, I wanted to turn around. Couldn't.

Sam's bag was pulled over to the side and something sharp jabbed into the meat of my upper right shoulder and my lower back. More cold, more weakness, and when they yanked the needles out I didn't feel it. Everything got soft and fuzzy then, worse than he last time.

They pulled Sam's bag off my back. The strap went down my arm and looped past my hand. My fingers twitched as I tried to grab it.

Sam was gone. He was out of my reach. I couldn't let that happen. I was supposed to take care of him, I'd done that all my damn life and I wasn't about to stop now.

I bucked upwards. "…nuh…noooo-"

I nearly made it.

notBobby didn't like that. "Ya damn fool, hit him again."

Two more jabs in my back this time, and I went stone cold all the way through. I didn't black out. My arms and legs gave out and I slammed into the ground on my side a second time. It was freaky, like I was watching a movie. I couldn't move. All I could do was watch.

This dark blue late model Ford F-150 roared up. It fishtailed a little in the mud. The doors opened, and hunters, a woman and five men, got out on the run.

They had thick, heavy chains, and a straightjacket.

I've spent some time in nut houses, as a guest, a cop and a fake doctor, among other things. Remember, Chuck? Thought you would. Poetic irony is a purebred bitch.

They turned me over on my back. Gwen Campbell leaned down and checked the pulse at the side of my neck. She fingered my eyelids open wide.

I wanted to bite her. Thought about it, and that was all I could do, think about it. Her fingers felt warm against my skin.

She looked at me and grinned. "He's good. Wrap him up, boys. Let's go"

I stared up at them and I didn't see any more black eyes. They sat me up, put the straightjacket on me, strapped me in good and tight, and then they wrapped one of the chains around my chest and the other around my ankles. I heard the click of the padlocks closing.

They carried me to the truck and tossed me across the back bench. I looked over their shoulder and saw notBobby standing there with a wet duffel bag in his hand. I couldn't sense Sam. That was the worst part, and the thing is I was so out of it I didn't think about him just then. At first I thought the bag was just a bag. Dead man's blood will do that to you.

Two hunters piled in on either side of me, and away we went.

The truck turned around and headed back, and I saw the warehouse on the other side, across the river. The place was a wreck, with the back wall blown out. The truck slowed as it neared the front. We were on the opposite side, and I could see everything.

Cops at the warehouse, five cars in all, flashing bubble racks, the works. They had Soulless, and for a wild moment I got pissed. I thought, _Damn, now I'm gonna have to break him out of some police station._

I was wrong.

He wasn't cuffed. They had him sitting down at first. They gave him water, then they lifted him up. He could hardly walk, so they carried him. They were gentle with him. When they loaded him into the back of the squad car, there was none of that watch your head crap, either.

All the cops had black eyes.

Samuel Campbell limped out of the warehouse. His face was red, and his eyes were swollen, like he'd been crying. He walked with a really bad limp, and I knew he had the print of my boot on his ass. Wanted to laugh, but I was so weak, I couldn't.

He turned towards us and pulled out a cell phone.

Every sound inside the truck sounded like it was coming at me through a long tunnel.

Gwen answered her phone. "We've got 'em. The vamp and the bag boy."

Grandpa nodded. "Good. Take 'em back to the compound. We'll follow you." He smiled, tight and hard. "We've got some party favors for that fanged bastard."

The pick-up started moving again. I was freezing inside, treading water in the middle of a ice covered lake in winter. I couldn't keep my head up, and what I saw out there finally dawned on me.

Campbell and his group were free.

And the demon possessed cops were in on this, what the hell _this_ was.

The cold washed over me again, and as I faded out I thought _Sonofabitch. We are sooo screwed._

* * *

TBC


End file.
